AUTHOR: Okay, hope I was a little faster with this chapter. Sorry that this one is on the shorter side, considering all the other chapters, but I had planned the previos one to have the ending on this one. I guess I just got lazy. On a side note, there are exams soon coming at my school and I don't know if that will affect my time to write, so…thought I'd mention that.

Anyway, special thanks to Reinbeicher and Dierdre for beta-ing this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: The usual.

"Are we there yet?"

"Understand, Mr...?"

"M.J."

"...M.J. Understand that we are taking this matter most seriously. We are bringing an outsider to our most secret place, which could have more ramifications than you can imagine if it is discovered. As a sworn guardian, I must take every precaution to prevent any kind of breach, intentional or not."

"...sooo, basically, you guys are just driving around to see if anyone is following us, and only after making sure that ain't the case, will we head to this super secret place?"

"...that is one way to look at it, I suppose."

"Ah. Well, in that case, could you please understand, Mr...?"

"Addressing me as Guardian will suffice for now."

"...Guardian. Understand that today has been without a doubt the mother-load of shock and surprise, what with my eyes getting all funky, the police showing a sudden interest in me, getting shot again, seeing a seven-foot tall mutant crocodile, recovering a memory I didn't even know I had that made me realize I've been shot before, my hand getting burned, riding on top of a train halfway across New York City, and then to be told that I have these Borg nano-probes that will kill me, and the only way to prevent that is to put all my trust on the word of someone who dresses like he's seen The Matrix about a billion too many times, but instead of heading to these masters of yours, we're taking a pleasure drive with me blindfolded. So I'm sure you'll understand that I'm just a little anxious to get to this place of yours, yes?"

"...yes, I can understand that."

"Good. Now, are we there yet?"

15 minutes later...

"Watch your head," said the Guardian as M.J. stepped out of the car. Every bone in his body protested leaving the car's comfy seat, but he just gritted his teeth and ignored it, his right hand waving in front of him to make sure he wouldn't walk into anything. Without saying a word, the Guardian took his hand, placed it on his shoulder and started walking slowly towards somewhere. The sounds of elevator doors opening was heard, and they stepped in. As the door closed, he could hear the Guardian press some buttons.

"...just how high up are we going, anyway?" M.J. asked, resisting the urge to scratch his ear.

"What makes you so sure we are going up, Mr. M.J.?"

I think someone just walked over my grave.

For what seemed like ages, the elevator went down, or at least, that's what M.J. assumed. It barely made a sound and he could feel no vibration of the elevator moving. He was about to ask the Guardian if they were in a closet, when the sounds of doors opened, and M.J. let out a breath he had been holding, relieved that he didn't smell fire and brimstone. Odd machine sounds greeted him as they walked out, and even though no one spoke he knew there were other people nearby. He could feel the pressure oftheireyes on him.

"So when can I take this thing off?" M.J. didn't need to elaborate on what thing he was talking about.

"When I decide so," came the cool reply.

Gee, that's original, M.J. thought, but kept his mouth shut. After walking for a few minutes, there was a sudden low hissing sound that resembled those advanced doors from Star Trek. He could tell they had entered a room, for the machine sounds had disappeared, replaced by the familiar sounds of computers.

"We have arrived, Mr. Mortu," the Guardian said and slowly stopped walking, forcing M.J. to stop as well. M.J. thought about removing the blindfold, but decided not to at the last moment.

"Good work, Guardian," came a second voice from out of nowhere. The sound of fancy shoes walking on metal headed towards them and then stopped, the person no doubt close by. "I believe it is now quite safe for him to see. We do not wish to unnerve him even further."

Too late, genius.

"Yes, Mr. Mortu." M.J. felt fingers work on the blindfold, and when it came off his eyes were closed. He barely cracked open an eyelid, expecting a wash of bright light, but surprisingly the large room had its lights dimmed. The room itself looked like it had been clipped out of a sci-fi game, with highly advanced looking computers along the walls. They seemed so advanced, in fact, that it didn't even look like they had been made by human hands, and what he could see on some of the screens made no sense whatsoever. There were a few people sitting in front of the screens, most of them wearing odd-looking green jumpsuits, and they all had their backs to him so he couldn't see their faces.

Oh man, what the hell have I gotten myself into this time?

His attention was quickly brought to the man standing before him. The man looked to be in his late thirties, wearing an expensive corporate suit with a pair of glasses and a polite smile. But what drew M.J.'s immediate attention was the guy's purple hair.

...ooookay... a hippie corporate guy. Now I've seen everything, and that's saying something coming from me. At least these guys don't look like they're mutants, so I guess that's a plus.

"Greetings, I am Mortu," the guy said, offering his hand. M.J. didn't even glance at it.

"M.J.. I've been told you can give me some answers about this," he said without preamble, pointing at his glowing blue eyes. The corp. guy's smile dwindled slightly, and then he simply nodded with an I'm-a-professional expression.

"Yes, I can understand your wanting to cut to the chase, what with our method of approaching you. But first I think that wound of yours should be treated. It looks rather serious," said the Mortu guy, pointing at M.J.'s wounded shoulder. It had been bandaged by the Guardian during their drive, but blood was slowly seeping through the cloth. The Guardian could do little regarding his burned hand. Small surprise, considering the damage.

"I've lived through worse, it can wait. Besides, if what that guy told me is true," M.J. jabbed a thumb at the Guardian, "then I got bigger problems to worry about."

Mortu blinked, clearly surprised, but did not push the issue. "...very well, if you feel that way. And yes, there is a greater threat lurking inside your body. The nano-probes. And speaking of those, do you remember how you got them in the first place?"

"Only about an hour ago. Seems like that big croc had something to do with it." Mentioning him made M.J. suddenly realized the big mutant wasn't in the room. For reasons unknown to him, he felt himself tense slightly, in case anyone in the room tried something. If Mortu noticed, he didn't show it.

"Yes...just so you know, he was not supposed to meet you like that, considering your last encounter. That and the memory block might have caused some...difficulty."

Mortu was about to say more, but was brought up short when M.J.waved his undamaged hand in front of his face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on here! Memory block? Is that what it was? What made me forget what happened in that sewer?"

"Well, the true purpose of the memory block is to... convince the brain not to think about a specific time in the memory cortex and not to be bothered by it. So tell me, what memory did you have prior to remembering the real one?"

"Uh..." M.J. almost grimaced as he tried to remember. The memory of the croc attacking him came immediately, but he tried to look passed that and to what had been in its place before. But no matter how hard he tried to remember, he just couldn't. "I... I can't remember. Only that... after the... attack, I woke up in a homeless shelter, the people there telling me I had been found lying at their doorstep."

"And you never wondered about the gap in your memory, did you?" Mortu said gently.

"...no...never..." The look on M.J.'s face told precisely what he was thinking; that there was a seven month old, life-changing memory gap,and not once had he given it any thought.

"Well then, I'd say it worked quite well, even though the way it was placed suggests it has been the source of your... discomfort."

For a few seconds it looked like M.J. hadn't heard him... until he blinked and slowly looked at him. "...what?" he growled, his eyes narrowing, his glowing eyes looking like an inferno barely controlled.

Mortu was momentarily taken aback. The Guardian tensed and his hand slowly reached into his coat, while the people sitting in front of the computer screens stopped looking like they were busy and turned to see the exchange. Realizing that they were supposed to look busy while not making it obvious that they were actually eavesdropping, however, they quickly turned back to the screens.

"...yes, after examining some of the data, I believe the memory block is what first activated the nano-probes in your brain. To be more precise, it was what made them stay active while the rest of the probes in your body shut down after healing your wounds. The memory block was being placed at the same time the nano-probes were injected into your body, and somewhere along the line an error was made. It would appear that some of the probes received... wrong orders, or simply misinterpreted them."

Utter disbelief was painted across M.J.'s face.

"So you're saying this weird shit that's been happening to me for months now is all because of some damn computer error!"

Mortu blinked and tilted his head in slight confusion. "Months? As far as we know, the nano-probes started activating themselves only couple of weeks ago."

M.J. froze and suddenly felt almost terrified at the thought of them finding out what he had been doing after they had saved his life. Images of his killings momentarily flashed across his mind, followed by the aftermath of it; the flashbacks, the shaking and the puking.

Wait… If this stuff is only responsible for what happened after those everything-is-slowing-down-what-the-fuck?-moments, with the blood coming out of my ears and stuff, then what caused those flashbacks?

"That's... that's what I meant," M.J. said, most unconvincingly. Before Mortu could ask any questions, M.J. continued, "So, Monty, what-"

"Mr. Mortu," said the Guardian, in a voice that left little argument.

"...Mr. Mortu," M.J. corrected himself, making it obvious how silly he thought it was, "now that your precious nano-probes have been returned to you, what are you gonna do with the host?"

Mortu blinked, looking slightly confused, as if he didn't understand what M.J. was talking about. To his credit, though, he did catch on quick. "Why, to safely extract them from your body in order to save your life, as our Guardian told you, Mr. M.J," he said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"...that's it? That's all you're gonna do to me?"

Judging from Mortu's expression, he realized what M.J. was implying. "Mr. M.J., I can understand your doubt with our words, given what you've been through-" you don't have a clue what I've been through, M.J. thought irritably "-and I honestly don't know how to convince you that we are not a threat, so I guess all I can do is ask you to trust us." His eyes and tone of voice suddenly made M.J. think of the rat, although just for a moment.

"Uh huh. And once you've done your magic trick on me, then what? You just gonna let me go?"

"Ah, yes, well, you see, about that..." said Mortu, looking somewhat embarrassed as he rubbed his chin.

My, don't you look embarrassed all of a sudden?

"I knew it."

Mortu's expression quickly changed into a serious one, and once more M.J. was reminded of the rat. "Like I said, Mr. M.J., I am asking you to trust us."

"Trust is a wonderful thing," M.J. said slowly, as he went over his options. Or, to be more precise, tried to think of some.

Okay... doesn't look like the hippie corp. guy is pulling my leg or trying to trick me. Then again, he is a corp. guy, and they are slimier than a lawyer with six figures in his paycheck. On the other hand, if he has something nasty planned for me, then why the nice guy charade? Why not just knock me out and strap me to an operation table? If he found out what I've been doing for half a year now, would his attitude towards me change? Or does he already know and want something from me?

This whole thing is a new playground, and I got no clue about the rules or what to do. And man, am I hating every second of it.

And why the hell am I wishing that the croc was here?

"...alright, let's do this," he finally said, all but saying how much he was against it.

"Splendid!" Mortu said cheerfully. "Your trust has not been misplaced, Mr. M.J., this I promise you. If you would follow me, please?" He then walked passed M.J. and towards the only door in the room. As M.J. turned to follow he noticed the Guardian still had his hand inside his coat, ready to bring out whatever was concealed.

Around fifty remarks sprang up in his mind, but for once he decided keeping his mouth shut was the best course of action. He followed Mortu through the doors, and by the sound of things, the Guardian followed as well.

The long hallway was shaped like a small tunnel with no markings or signs on the walls, but since there was only one path to follow, there was little risk of getting lost. As Mortu reached the end of the tunnel, he suddenly stopped and turned to face M.J.. "Mr. M.J., I am afraid I momentarily forgot myself regarding where I am taking you. This section of our... place has some sensitive equipment that would simply raise too many questions. Believe me, Mr. M.J., you not seeing too much would be better for all of us."

M.J. said nothing as the Guardian blindfolded him again and started leading him by the shoulder once more as they walked.

No gun when you need one.

This time, however, the trip was surprisingly short; only a few steps, really. And when the blindfold was removed, what M.J. saw made him instantly regret coming here in the first place.

It might have taken some people a few seconds to realize what the thing was, but M.J. had seen enough sci-fi horror shows to know a life-pod when he saw one. Looking around, he could see an orange-like glow coming from many more pods in the big room, and he could see that most of them had something in them. They were very small, around the size of a football, but they were too far away to see what the things were.

Aw man, please don't tell me it's those face-huggers. That'll really complete my day.

Mortu coughed. "Mr. M.J., if you could please focus on what is in front of you? We have taken enough risk as it is to bring you here, and there are things in here we would prefer you not seeing."

"Lemme guess. I gotta get in that deathtrap?"

"Deathtrap?" Mortu raised an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me you are claustrophobic?"

"I wish. I've seen the movie; the guy who gets inside the life-pod will have something burst out of his chest. That, or turned inside-out." The expression on Mortu's face seemed to be a mixture of mild amusement and annoyance, and the thought occurred to M.J. that Mortu had probably gone through some trouble bringing him here. "But if it's the only way to deal with these nano-probes..."

"It is."

"Well, then, it doesn't really leave much of an option for me. Open it up and let's get this over with."

"Certainly. Just remove your clothes and we'll-"

"Excuse me? My clothes?" M.J. looked like Mortu had just asked him for marriage.

"Well, yes. In order for the pod to fully scan your body and-"

"Uh-uh. No way. Not a chance. Ain't no way I'm gonna step in there butt-naked. I'd rather take my chances with the nano-probes as it is."

"You don't have to be completely naked," said Mortu, now looking just a bit more irritated, "you can still be in your... underwear."

Well then, why the hell didn't you say so?

"Still, trusting a machine?" M.J. pointed out, not wanting to drop the issue.

"Trust is a wonderful thing, remember?" Mortu fired back, the corner of his lips curling upwards as he used M.J.'s previous words against him.

Instead of coming up with any smart-ass remarks, M.J. silently started working on his belt with his right hand, where a sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of the gunshot wound. "Hey, I got a question. When it gets filled with that orange gooey stuff," he said, pointing at the pod next to the one M.J. was supposed to step in. It was filled with something orange, but otherwise remained empty, "what's gonna happen to my bullet wound? Shouldn't we treat that first?"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. M.J., you'll be quite safe. These pods will not only help us remove the nano-probes, but they can also heal any kind of physical wound, regardless of how serious they are. You might experience a momentary, sharp pain before the pod puts you in a... mild hibernation, so to speak. It's completely harmless, I assure you, and you will be asleep during the whole procedure," Mortu said with a certain smugness, as if he had invented the pods himself. Or maybe he was just showing off.

"Woah, hold on here. Stuff that can heal any kind of wound?" M.J. said with utter disbelief. "The hell is this? A bad sci-fi movie? How come I've never heard of such a thing before? Something like that would make a killing on the market."

Mortu was silent for a few seconds, and then spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words, "It is as I said, Mr. M.J.. There are things in this place that would be best for everyone on this planet not to know. The nano-probes in your body are but the tip of the iceberg, and just look at what it has done to you," he said, not unkindly.

Yeah, just look at what it has done to me, and then tell me if I don't deserve it or not.

"When this is over, I'll have some questions," M.J. said, rather pointlessly, but only to see Mortu's reaction, who merely nodded.

"Some will be answered, others not."

He saw little reason to argue about it, but at that point the throbbing in his burned hand was now too much to ignore. "And my hand? Can it fix that, too?"

"Your... hand?" Mortu blinked in slight confusion. When he saw M.J. remove the remaining tissue on his hand, exposing it, he recoiled in horror. "Gods! What happened to you?"

"I... had an accident."

Mortu's expression said that was this year's understatement, but before he could make more queries, M.J continued, "Look, can this thing fix my hand or not?"

Mortu looked like he was about to argue or ask a question, but apparently decided not to and stepped closer to inspect the wound. "This... this is bad. Really bad. Under normal circumstances your hand would be as good as useless, but..."

"...but these are not normal circumstances, are they?"

"No, they are not." Mortu turned and walked up to the pod, pressing some buttons on a console next to it. A small hatch opened, and Mortu pulled out what looked like a hypo-spray from Star Trek. He pressed some buttons on the device as he walked up to M.J., gently took a hold of his left arm, pressed the hypo-spray against his wrist and pushed the button. A small hissing sound came, and M.J. flinched slightly as he felt something inject into him, but the feeling was gone the next second. A few moments later, the pain was gone as well.

"Hey, the pain, it's... it's gone," M.J. said, not believing what he was feeling. Or the lack thereof, to be more precise.

"What I injected into you has momentarily shut down your nervous system. By the time it wears off you'll be long asleep. And don't worry about the hand, when you wake up it will be good as new," he said, giving him a reassuring smile.

For a few seconds M.J. said nothing and only stared at his hand. He then resumed undressing until he was stripped down to his boxers. As Mortu opened the pod, M.J. looked at his hand again, and then finally decided.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want you to fix my hand. Not completely."

"Not... completely? What-"

"Look, if you can fix my hand so I can use it again, that'll be great. But I want something that will remind me of what it once looked like. A scar."

Mortu and the Guardian looked at each other, both not believing what they had just heard. "A... a scar? But why?"

"As a reminder."

"A reminder? Of what?"

G-goddamnit, kid... d-don't let... o-other people drown because of your hatred...

"Just do it," M.J. snapped, and then stepped into the pod.